


Save the Child Inside

by Pigeonsplotinsecrecy



Category: 9-1-1: Lone Star (TV 2020)
Genre: Carlos is a social worker, Depression, Hurt TK Strand, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Drug Addiction, Kidnapping, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Owen Strand is Angsty, Past Abuse, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Supportive Carlos Reyes, TK has a lot of trauma, identity crisis
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-31
Updated: 2021-02-04
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:42:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24465892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pigeonsplotinsecrecy/pseuds/Pigeonsplotinsecrecy
Summary: T.K. was raised in Austin, Texas by his abusive father (not Owen). He settled down with his husband, Carlos, who he met in high school and has been his salvation ever since. When an explosion kills all but two members of the 126 and a new captain from the city is brought in, T.K.'s whole life changes as he realizes that Owen Strand isn't the arrogant city guy he seems to be. T.K. figures out that he isn't the person he thought he was either.
Relationships: Carlos Reyes/TK Strand
Comments: 55
Kudos: 177
Collections: L O N E  S T A R





	1. Marital Bliss

T.K. is not so patiently waiting for his husband to come home. He’s been bored all day, and he hates how trapped in his thoughts he becomes when no one else is around to keep his head away from everything else. He could call Carlos’ mother. She just retired at the ripe age of 55. Carlos’ family was well off, so their work was more out of passion than need; though, Carlos likes to pave his own way, so they don’t take money from his relatives. They do accept plenty of comradery, though. Ana Reyes would have gladly come over to hang out with T.K. if he asked. She’s been doing that a lot lately, probably at Carlos’ behest. T.K. adores Ana, so he doesn’t mind when she shows up. He and Ana have gotten closer over the past few months, and it feels good to T.K. to have actual family.

Checking his phone for the time or a text, T.K. feels extra anxious. Ever since the explosion that had killed all but two members of the 126, T.K. has been hanging out at home trying not to go crazy. He can’t wait until the 126 is rebuilt so that he can get back to his normal life. He doesn’t want to think about all the bad shit that happened anymore. He’s better and ready to get back to normal. His buddy, and basically his big brother, Judd, agrees that they’ve had enough time off. They’re both antsy to get back to work and save lives.

It’s getting late, so he’s worrying about why Carlos isn’t there yet. It’s been hard for them to be apart lately. Every separation sends a fresh surge of anxiety through each of them, but they’re working on it. Just like they’re working on everything else. Even so, it’s a relief Carlos comes in through the door, carrying a couple bags of groceries. He kisses T.K. on the forehead, “Sorry that I’m late. I had stop at the store and get some stuff for dinner.”

“I wasn’t worried.” He’s too quick to say it, but Carlos doesn’t make a big deal of it. Carlos sees right through T.K., but he knows when to keep a conversation for later.

Carlos nods. “How was your day? Are you feeling okay?” T.K. has been out of the hospital for months, but Carlos still worries. While they’re both more on edge than usual, T.K.’s anxiety has been through the roof. Carlos doesn’t know if it’s PTSD, but it seems to him like T.K. had PTSD long before the explosion even happened.

“Yeah, I’m okay. I’m just glad you’re home. I’m so bored here all alone.” Carlos moves to the kitchen to put away some of the groceries and start dinner. He’s going to make macaroni and cheese because it’s one of the few positive memories T.K. has from his childhood. Carlos has been making it a lot lately, so much that he could make it in his sleep. Not that he’s been getting a lot of sleep.

“There’s something you should know.” Carlos doesn’t want to bring up bad feelings, but he knows he can’t hide things from T.K. T.K. has a hard time trusting people, and even having been married to him for two years, Carlos doesn’t want to do anything to break that trust. “I saw your dad today. He’s back in town.”

T.K. stiffens, and Carlos tries to control his temper. He hates what that man did, still does, to T.K. “Oh? Did you punch him?” The thought of his dad is enough to make T.K. feel physically sick, and now, anxiety is stirring in his chest as he thinks of his childhood of horrors. He hates how damaged he always feels when his dad is brought up. He wishes he could just get over it.

“I wish. No, I just saw him at the market. He didn’t even acknowledge me.”

“Yeah, me either.” T.K. isn’t bitter. He really isn’t. “I wish that bastard would get out of Austin.”

“He should be in jail.” Carlos sets the pot of water down on the stovetop with a heavy thud. T.K. startles. “Sorry,” Carlos says, and he’s not sure if the noise was scared T.K. because of the explosion or childhood trauma.

“I don’t want him in jail, but I want him away from me,” T.K. replies. He doesn’t want to see anything bad happen to his father, but he doesn’t want to see anything good happening to him either. T.K. still has a myriad of complex thoughts when it comes to his childhood, and he wants them to stay as far away from the forefront of his mind as possible because he has enough to ruminate over as it is.

“I won’t let him get near you,” Carlos promises, and T.K. knows that he means it, but his dad isn’t the type of guy who respects boundaries. If his dad wants to get to T.K., he probably will. T.K. doesn’t think he cares enough to go out of his way, though. He’s hoping desperately that that’s the case.

“I’m not a helpless little kid anymore.” His voice trembles. He’s not one, but the helpless little kid always lives inside him, scared and hoping that someone will care enough to help him.

“Childhood hurts never really go away, do they?” Carlos’ dad had died when he was ten, and he still struggles with the sense of loss he has that never goes away.

“Dad wasn’t that bad.” Carlos hadn’t seen many fathers much worse than T.K.’s, and as a social worker, he’s seen a lot of familial dysfunction. T.K. didn’t talk about his dad a lot, but the things he says make Carlos’ blood boil.

T.K. has gotten up from his seat and walks over to the kitchen area to be closer to Carlos. “Anyways, how was work? I hope it wasn’t too hard on you.” Carlos had had a hard week the week before. A child in one of the families he worked with had died tragically, and it hadn’t been anyone’s fault, but it was awful, nevertheless.

“It was good,” Carlos replies. “Definitely better than last week.”

T.K. has his arm around Carlos’ waist, letting his husband ground him. He catches a whiff of Carlos’ cologne, and it’s so comforting. It reminds him of a smell he used to know, but he hasn’t been able to figure out what it is. “That’s good.”

“Let’s hope that the week keeps going well.”

“Let’s hope,” T.K. nods in response. “You should have asked me to go to the store. It’s not like I had anything to do.”

Carlos shrugs. “I like going.” Carlos really doesn’t mind. It can be fun to walk through the aisles and see all the varieties of food. He knows also that T.K. doesn’t like the grocery store. He gets fidgety and bored whenever he’s there.

“Yeah, but you’re so busy, and I’m just sitting around being useless.”

“You’re not useless.” They’ve had this same fight a lot, especially since T.K. has been unable to go back to work.

“You have to say that. You married me, but I have been useless all my life. Except at work. I was good at that, but now, I don’t even have that one thing.”

“You’ll be back in action soon.” Carlos puts a pot of water on the stove and starts it towards a boil.

“Did you hear that they’re brining in some guy from New York to run the new 126? That’s what Judd told me.”

“Oh? How’s Judd doing.”

“Pissed that they’re bringing some stranger in to be our captain.”

“Are you pissed?”

“Yeah! It’s awful. That’s what it is. He’s going to ruin everything. He doesn’t even get how it is here in Texas. Austin is a weird, hipster city, but we’re still Texans. I give it three weeks before he realizes that he’s not cut out to work here.” T.K. hadn’t been born in Texas, but it is the only home he could remember, and he doesn’t like the idea of an outsider coming in and flipping everything on its head. They’ve had enough changes.

Carlos shrugs. “Maybe he’ll be nice.” Carlos doesn’t think it’s such a bad idea to bring in an outsider. They need fresh blood. A new start. He thinks that T.K. isn’t so much against the new city guy. More so, he’s against having to go back to work without his old team. He wants back the people who were taken from him.

T.K. shoots him an “Are you serious?” look. “He’s probably going to think he’s the best thing since sliced bread, and I don’t want to work for a guy who has attitude.”

“ _You_ have attitude,” Carlos replies with a laugh, bumping T.K. playfully with his hip.

T.K. crosses his arms, looking petulant. “Well, I’m not in charge, am I? My attitude won’t get anyone killed. That job should be going to Judd. He’s a real leader. Not some city guy who got his position by charming the pants off his superiors. Like, come on, New York? Why would a New Yorker want to come here? That job belongs to Judd.”

“Do you think Judd would even want it? Grace tells me that he’s been having a tough time with everything. Being captain is a lot of pressure.” She’d confided to Carlos that Judd refused to even go to therapy. T.K. had already been seeing a therapist, at least sporadically, so at least he’d already had a person to talk to in place. Judd hadn’t been so open to professional help.

“Our team died. Of course, he’s having a hard time, but he’s fine now. He told me so. He’s ready to get back to work, and I’m going to be right beside him. I’m just glad we’ll have each other.”

Carlos is careful with what he says next. “Do you think you’re ready to go back?”

T.K. looks offended at the question, and Carlos is afraid that he’s gone too far. “I’ve been seeing the therapist like you wanted. She thinks I’m doing well. She thought I was doing well before all this happened too.”

“Just remember that Judd isn’t going to be your boss. The new guy is, so you’ll have to listen to him.”

“He saved my life, so I’m going to be loyal to him above all others, and the new captain better learn to deal with that.” Judd had shielded T.K. with his own body, protecting him from the worst of the explosion. T.K. owed Judd his life, and he was going to be bitter on his friend’s behalf about this new guy rolling in and stealing what was rightfully Judd’s.

“If you need more time off, we can make it work.”

“No, we can’t. You don’t exactly get paid a lot. Besides, I can’t just sit at home all day.”

“Whatever you need, we can make it work. You know Mamá would help if we needed it.”

“We don’t need it.”

“I don’t want you to feel like you have to go back before you’re ready.” Carlos is anxious at the thought that T.K. will be putting himself back into danger soon. Honestly, he’s traumatized by the explosion himself. He has nightmares about T.K. dying, and it makes his throat dry to think of T.K. back around fires and other things that could kill him.

“I need to get back to living a real life, not just my sad, pathetic existence.”

Carlos bites his lip as he pours the shells, because he prefers those over macaroni, into the boiling water. He puts the milk, salt, pepper, cornstarch, and ground mustard into a separate pot and starts to bring that mix to a boil. He gets out the block of sharp white cheddar and begins to shred it. It feels good to take his frustrations out on the cheese. “If you say you’re ready, I’ll support you.” Even if he hates it.

“I’m ready. I was born to do this, and I’m not going to let shit that’s happened in the past stand in my way.”

“Okay, then, I’ll be here to support you no matter what trouble this new guy brings.”

T.K. leans up to kiss Carlos. “That’s why I married you.”

“I thought it was because I could cook?”

T.K. kisses him again. “That was just a perk.” Carlos loves his husband so much, and he’ll whatever he can to keep him happy, healthy, and safe.


	2. Turn and Face the Strange Changes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> T.K. is upset about the new captain.

Owen Strand is an asshole, and that’s the nicest word that T.K. has for him. He can’t believe that’s who was going to be his new boss. Of all the people in the world, they had to be stuck with an arrogant, fake-nice captain from New York. Owen Strand doesn’t care about T.K. or Judd. He just wants to make a new station with new people from all over the country. T.K. had been shocked that he had been able to get out of there without yelling. He’d always had a short, anxious fuse, but he’d stormed away before he could blow up and show Owen that he wasn’t ready to go back to work. He needs to work. Right now.

It’s a relief to be home even though he’s been home so much lately, and he’s getting sick of being cooped up. He rushes in through the door, and Carlos looks up as he throws his keys onto their hook and misses the hook, letting the keys hit the floor. He groans and doesn’t pick them up. “Hey,” Carlos says, voice cautious. “How was your meeting with the new captain?” T.K. doesn’t want to talk about it, but at the same time, he can’t keep his damn mouth shut to save his life.

T.K. throws his hands up, gesticulating wildly. “He wants to change the entire station with his espresso machine and new age crap like that would make things any better. He thinks that Judd isn’t ready to come back. How crazy is that? Judd lives to be a firefighter.”

“What about you?” Carlos asks, and he’s secretly hoping that T.K. is forced to hold off going to work for just a couple weeks more. That’s selfish, but the thought of T.K. being in danger, the possibility of T.K. dying makes it hard

“What about me?” T.K. blares. He’s clenching his fists, already losing it when the conversation has barely started.

“Does he think you’re ready to come back?”

“He looked skeptical, but he didn’t say I wasn’t.” That answer doesn’t make Carlos feel reassured. He didn’t say anything in response because when T.K. got in these moods he didn’t stop talking. “He was impressed that I’d actually gone to my therapy. I didn’t tell him that my social worker boyfriend pushed me into it.” T.K. crosses his arms. “What does he know anyway? This guy thinks that he’s an expert on mental health. Like, you can’t tell just by looking at a person how well they are is doing. So, he told me that he still had concerns, but with Judd, he just flat out said that he wasn’t ready. How unfair is that? Judd’s been there since he got out of high school. It’s not like he’s forgotten how to fight fires. Most of the time we’re just doing medical calls and crowd control anyway.”

“Maybe he’s right.” T.K. looks at Carlos like he is a traitor.

“Whose side are you on?” T.K. feels like a raw nerve. He’s felt like one since he was a child, and now, he finds himself blowing up at the people he loves most, and ever since the explosion, he’s been worse. He dreads opening his mouth sometimes because he knows something red hot will spew out.

“Yours. I’m always on yours but what you went through was traumatic, and—”

“And nothing! You don’t get to define my trauma by telling me how I should feel or that I’m not ready to go back to work. I’m ready! I’m tired of sitting at home like an invalid. You don’t get how crazy I’ve been going here.”

“I know that it’s been hard.”

“It’s been the worst time of my life, and you know what my childhood was like.”

Carlos pulls T.K. into a hug because he needs to feel close to him, and T.K. relaxes at the touch. “Maybe he won’t be as bad as you think.”

“Maybe he’ll be worse. What does a city slicker know about running a fire department in Texas? He’s going to mess it all up. At least the station will look nice, but that won’t do a whole lot when he lets the whole city go to hell.”

“He’ll adapt, and he’ll have you to help him.” At least T.K. still had a job to show up to. Judd’s prospects were a lot less settled. Owen Strand didn’t seem to change his mind easily.

“I have a policy about not doing favors for bastards.”

“You wouldn’t be doing favors for bastards. You’d be doing favors for the people of this city. Even if this new guy doesn’t need it, they need your help.” T.K. wasn’t going to let people down no matter how awful he felt about the whole situation. He was the best person for the job, which was why he was going to have to play nice and vent his frustrations when he came home from work at night.

“I know, but it’s still going to suck. I’m too hot-blooded for this. God, I’m just like my dad.” Carlos pulls T.K.’s body away from his so that they can look at each other eye to eye.

“You’re nothing like him. You can get passionate, but you don’t hurt innocent people when you get mad, and you can about people other than yourself. I wouldn’t have married you if you were like him.”

“Yeah, well, I’m sure my mom didn’t intend on getting stuck with an abusive deadbeat either. It’s no wonder she ran away.” T.K. never knew his mom, and honestly, it was probably for the best because he couldn’t miss her when he never knew her. He could only miss the idea of her, which was bad enough.

Carlos kisses T.K. “You’re the best husband, and I’m so lucky to have you.”

T.K. leans his head against Carlos’ chest. “I’m even luckier to have you. You put up with my craziness.”

Carlos smiles. “For now, and forever.”

“Life’s never going to be the same, is it?” T.K. can’t help but ask.

Carlos holds T.K. closer. “No, I don’t think that it is.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a short chapter before things start to going. I plan on meeting Owen and the others next chapter so we'll break from the Tarlos bubble, but sometimes I'm fickle haha. I'll be on tumblr at lonestarbabe if you want to chat. Feel free to leave a comment and share your thoughts. Thanks for reading.


	3. Back to Work

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Owen and T.K. have a talk.

T.K. had been pulled into Owen Strand’s office from the moment that he walked into the firehouse. He feels like there’s no good reason to be sitting across from the new captain. It’s not like T.K. has done anything yet. He hasn’t had the chance to let his impulses get him in trouble with this stupid New Yorker who is probably going to be the downfall of the whole station. He’s worked there a week, but they won’t start taking calls for another week because Owen thinks it’s important that they have team bonding and that kind of shit that T.K. thinks is so stupid. They’ve been doing some training sessions, which are okay because T.K. likes hard work. Endurance exercises keep him It keeps his mind off everything else, but the trust exercises aren’t something he can tolerate. He’s not easy to trust people.

The captain is looking at him, and it’s too early for a stare-off, so the way the captain looks at him only makes him angrier because he’s too tired for this. T.K. hates men like that who look at you like they glare you into submission. “Good morning, T.K.” His voice is bubbly as if the firehouse isn’t still haunted by all the people it has lost. T.K.’s not sure that he’ll ever be able to smile like that without guilt. It’s not like his life gives him a lot to smile about, anyway.

T.K. crosses his arms and uncrosses them because he doesn’t want to look like a petulant kid. “What am I here for?” T.K. asks, not wanting to ensure any pleasantries. He’s not here to make nice. He’s here to do his job, and that’s exactly what he’s going to do. Not make friends or talk to his boss about the weather or anything equally vapid. Owen Strand wants to be Mr. Popular, and T.K. isn’t going to let him have that title easily.

Owen has the gall to crack another smile. T.K. doesn’t return one. He can’t. He won’t. “I thought that you’d want to be the first one to know that Judd will be coming back today.” T.K.’s taken aback by that. He can’t believe that Judd hasn’t told him. Though, he supposes they haven’t been talking much lately, which is fine. They’ve been through a lot. It’s probably normal that they need a little space. He knows that Grace and Carlos have been talking, though.

T.K. keeps his voice stoic. “I probably would’ve have noticed that when I saw him walk through the door.”

“That’s not why I called you in here.”

“Then what is? I’m not in the mood for small talk.”

“After realizing that I’d handled things that wrong way with Judd, I made a stipulation with Judd that he needs to take care of his mental health. That was the main reason I wasn’t going to let him back in the first place. He wasn’t taking his trauma seriously.” T.K. wants to roll his eyes. It’s not like he’s been more okay than Judd. Maybe he’s better at hiding the haunted look in his eyes. He’s been doing it his whole life. He’s good at seeming okay even when his whole world is crumbling. He’s going to therapy too, which is more Carlos’ doing that anything. Judd didn’t need Owen’s meddling. He and T.K. would have gotten through coming back to work together, but Owen had tried to ruin that because he knew nothing about the 126 and who they were.

“Yeah? And?” He still doesn’t know why Owen is wasting his time with this.

“I need you to take your mental health seriously too. You’ve done your required therapy, but I need you to keep taking care of that. If you start to have issues, you need to be upfront about it or else this isn’t going to work. I need to know that I can trust you.” _What about me trusting you? How am I supposed to do that?_

T.K. rolls his eyes. “What my personal life is like isn’t your business. Everyone’s got baggage, and it’s not your business how that baggage is handled.”

“It is if it gets in the way of what we’re doing here.”

“I would never let my issues get in the way with my job.”

“I know you wouldn’t intentionally, but—

“But nothing. I’m fine, and this isn’t something I want to talk about with someone I’ve just met. What happened was awful, but I’m ready to move on.”

“T.K., you’re young and you’re resilient, but trauma is still trauma. I’ve been through it myself. I know what it’s like to lose your whole crew.” He pauses, looking choked up. “I know what it’s like to lose everything important to you.”

“Then you know sometimes you don’t want to be coddled. You just want to move on.”

“I also know that sometimes no matter how hard you try, you can’t move on.”

“I’m nothing like you,” T.K. reminds him. “And it seems to me that the problems that you think I have are just you problems.”

Owen doesn’t let T.K.’s comment rile him up. “Maybe you’re right, but I’m here if you need to talk.”

“I won’t, and if I do, it won’t be to you because I don’t trust you. You just rolled into Austin like you owned the place, and it doesn’t make sense that you’d want to come to Austin of all places. If anything, this is a downgrade, so unless you were on the verge of being fired, I can’t see why you’d take this job other than having a hero complex.” T.K. absolutely shouldn’t be talking to his new boss this way, but he’s never been good at keeping his mouth shut.

“I appreciate your honesty, so I’m going to be honest with you. I’m not here because I want to be a hero. I’m here because I needed a fresh start. New York has a lot of hard memories for me. I was holding onto a lot of things that I needed to let go, so when the opportunity arose, I took the chance for the most drastic change that I’ve ever faced. This new station can be a fresh start for you too. And Judd.”

T.K. remains petulant. “I didn’t ask for your sob story.” He’s being an asshole because that how he gets whenever he has any negative feelings. _Like father like son I guess._

Owen laughs, “Trust me. I didn’t give it,” and T.K. knows that there’s something to unpack there, but someone else’s trauma isn’t something he has any business digging into.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading. I'm so happy to finally be back to writing for fun! Can't wait to dive back into this story.


	4. The Asshole

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> T.K. struggles to communicate.

It was a Monday, and T.K. had just had the weekend off, so going back to work for another week with Captain Thinks He’s Cool But Is Actually an Asshole was not T.K.’s idea of a good time. Usually, he liked his job. He enjoyed helping people, and every time he saved someone else, T.K. felt like he was rescuing himself from parts of himself that he didn’t like to consider— his impulsiveness, his addictiveness, his restlessness. But with all the changes, T.K. didn’t feel much of anything when he worked. There was a hollowness in his core that T.K. couldn’ fill as effortlessly as he once could. Work didn’t make him feel in control anymore. It made him worry that he was seconds away from a spiral because firefighting was once solid ground, but it had become a collapsed building, full of accidents waiting to happen.

 _I should be dead,_ was the mantra repeating in his mind. It had been there for longer than he would have admitted. There was no reason why he had lived while his brothers had died in that catastrophic explosion. Every single person in that crew had been better people than T.K. a million times over. T.K. was lucky to have known them all, and their acceptance of him had proven that life is happier when the best part of it is the people who surround you. They brought out the best in him, and then, they were gone. T.K. was left with Carlos, Judd, and a mountain of issues that he had to battle. He couldn’t talk about those issues, though. Not if he wanted to keep himself marginally levelheaded.

“You’re spacey today,” T.K. heard, and he felt himself jolt at the interruption. Paul is right next to him with that look on his face. The one that T.K. was being analyzed in ways that made him want to dig a hole and hide for a few months until things had steadied and T.K. didn’t feel dizzy all the time. T.K. tried to keep his distance from Paul because it was hard to hide from someone who was hyper-observant. T.K. knew a thing or two about hiding. He’d hidden his sexuality, he’d hidden all the shit that happened with his father, and he’d hidden how untethered he always was, even before the accident. He took comfort in all the things he never showed anyone. Even Carlos only knew a sanitized version of what went on in T.K’s head, and life was less chaotic that way.

“I’m just here to do my job.” But he wasn’t even good at that anymore. All the calls that could have gone wrong did, but he didn’t want to think about that because if he did, he was going to lose it completely. He’d been on the verge of a mental breakdown for a while, and he tiptoed the edge between being okay and not being okay carefully. As long as he could act okay externally, he could deal with the messy internal thoughts. No one could know that he was struggling. If they did, they’d think it was too early for him to be back at work, and that wasn't the case at all. Work wasn’t the problem. It was everything else in his life that was falling apart. Work was the glue that was keeping him together.

T.K. wasn’t sure why Paul had come to bother him at all. Maybe he’d drawn the short straw. The new team should’ve known better than to approach T.K. when he was in a mood. He’d made it clear that he wasn’t going to be social with anyone at the 126 other than Judd. T.K. wasn’t planning on making friends, and he certainly didn’t want any concern from people he saw as nothing more than interlopers.

“I’m here to talk if you need it, man.” The consideration almost made T.K. soften. _Because I’m weak._ Damn Paul for being a good guy. T.K. had to remind himself not to let his guard down just because someone was nice to him. Maybe several years ago, he would have been pathetic enough to try to be friends with anyone who paid attention to him, but he was past being desperate for love. Love always seemed to turn up tragic, anyway, so he’d clutch onto the love he already had without making any more. _Whoever said the more, the merrier didn’t know the joy of being alone._

“I have a husband for talking to,” _And I haven’t felt like talking to him either. Or my therapist._

Paul’s face remained neutral. “A husband, huh? I think that’s the first personal thing you’ve said in three weeks of working together. What’s his name?”

T.K. resisted rolling his eyes. He couldn’t help the clipped tone that came out, “Don’t get used to information. His name is Carlos. That’s all you’re going to get.” _I’m such an asshole._ He hated how he couldn’t seem to stop himself from being a jerk. He wondered what Carlos ever saw in him. He’d been an asshole to Carlos when they first met as well. He’d said, “Go look somewhere else if you’re looking to use your hero complex.” He still wasn’t sure how Carlos had gotten past that moment. Maybe it had been Michelle insisting that T.K. was worth another chance. She’d always been good about keeping them together and prodding at either of them if they were acting stupid, which T.K. acted stupidly often.

Paul shrugged, saying, “Okay. That’s fine,” and the response made T.K.’s blood boil with something he couldn’t identify—anger, anxiety, maybe fear. He expected more of a reaction when he was an asshole, and it made butterflies flutter in his stomach when people’s reactions were different than he anticipated. No, it was more like bulls stampeding in his stomach, running with heaviness and power. “But that was a bad call with the little girl, so if you need to talk to someone who gets it, any of us are willing. It doesn’t have to be me.”

“That’s it? You’re not going to tell me off for being an asshole.” Childish defiance was brewing in T.K., and the more he wanted to make Paul’s expression change. “And you obviously aren’t as observant as you claim to be because you sure haven’t noticed that I don’t plan to play nice with any of you. You’re only here because good men died. You’ve got awfully big shoes to fill, and you’re never going to fill them.”

Paul’s voice still didn’t raise. He pointed to his boots, “Luckily, I came with my own shoes, and I’ve filled them for a long time.” He stood from the bench and gave T.K. a pitiful look. “I get that you lost a lot, and no one is going to replace your old crew, but like it or not, you’ve gained a motley crew of people who don’t want the world to hurt other people like it hurt us. You don’t have to talk to us. You don’t even have to like us, but we’re here, so you might as well make the best of us.”

The anger dissipated from T.K.’s body. “I think I just need a few moments alone.”

Paul gave a small smile, “Take as many or as few as you need,” and with a nod, he was gone.

T.K. just wanted to go home, bury himself under his covers and sleep, but he had thirteen hours left on his shift, and he’d have to suck up his bad feelings and try to get through.

Marjan was the second member of the crew to corner T.K. When he saw her come up to him with an expression that screamed, “We’re having a serious talk,” he pinched the bridge of his nose and suppressed a groan. He liked Marjan. She was a badass with a quick wit and a heart of gold. What wasn’t to like? But while she didn’t have Paul’s extreme observational skills, she had a way of cajoling information out of people that almost made talking to her more dangerous.

“We’re going out to a honkytonk tomorrow night. You should come.”

T.K. brushed her off, “I’m kind of busy.”

“You’re busy a lot.”

T.K. tried to make a joke, “I get booked up months in advance.”

“Well, maybe you could squeeze us in some time.”

“Yeah, maybe so,” T.K. said, but he wasn’t going to make any promises.

Mateo was the member of the 126 that people too often underestimated. They looked at him and assumed that he was stupid or naïve and wouldn’t know anything. He was quiet, and there was a lot that he didn’t understand, but his ignorance had nothing to do with his intelligence or will. He just didn’t have the experience level that the rest of the crew had, but he was good with the details. He left nothing to chance, and he was the least likely of all them to cut corners. He was thorough with his relationships too, and he was so naturally caring that it was hard to turn him away and not give him something. His trustworthiness and his genuine concern made it hard for T.K.’s barriers not to melt just a little bit, _but I have to be strong._

Mateo was brief with his speech, “We’re all just here to help each other out, and we need each other now more than ever.”

“I need my old crew more than ever,” T.K. said, meaning to sound stubborn, but it came off as desperate and too honest.

“We’re what you’ve got, and we’ll be here until your ready to treat us like we’re more than replacements.”

“You’ll be waiting a while.”

Mateo laughed, “I’m good at waiting. Do you know how long it took me just to be a probie?” T.K. hadn’t paid attention enough to know the answer, but he did remember a lot of fretting about Mateo’s firefighter’s test a while back. “I don’t care about having to do so much grunt work, either. I’m just glad to be here.” _The question is, Am I glad to be here too?_

T.K. felt a rush of relief fill him when Mateo didn’t make him say anything more.

Owen Strand was the member of the 126 that T.K. knew better than he wanted to know him. He talked a lot, and he pretty quickly revealed heaps of information, but T.K. knew that for as open as he appeared to be, he had secrets that he was guarding. He was choosy about what he revealed, but because he revealed a significant amount of stuff that didn’t really matter, he seemed open. T.K. recognized that in him because T.K. was exactly the same way. He made people feel like he was giving information away to distract from the secrets he kept. Though, he hadn’t even been doing that lately. He didn’t have the energy to spin a narrative just to keep people off his trail. There was so much else he had to handle, and the new 126 didn’t seem worth the effort of either divulging information or actively hiding information.

“How are you doing?” Owen settled beside T.K.

T.K. forced a smile, “I’m doing great.” _Maybe I’m not too exhausted to actively hide, after all._ Owen was the captain, so if there was anyone that T.K. had to fool, it was him.

“It’s been a long shift. We lost a kid, that’s always hard.”

“It’s not over yet, so I’ve got to keep my focus.”

“It wasn’t your fault,” Owen insisted.

“I know.”

“There was nothing that we could have done.”

“Yeah, I know that,” T.K.’s voice was firmer now, but he couldn’t help the way it wavered at the end.

Owen opened his mouth to say something else, but the alarm lit up, and a siren wailed through the firehouse.

“Talk later,” T.K. told the captain, hurrying out of the captain’s office to get ready. He had no intention of talking. _It’s best that way. Talking never leads to anything good coming out of my mouth._

As the only member of the crew to actually have a genuine relationship with T.K., Judd’s concern meant the most, but they’d never been the type of friends to have emotional conversations. They were brothers and would do anything for one another— Judd’s family often hosted T.K. for holidays, which they’d split with Carlos’ family— but they didn’t need heart to hearts to be close.

“You have to let them in eventually,” Judd told him when they were packing up to go home. T.K. had to admit that Judd was a changed person since he had started to go to therapy. Maybe that’s why he seemed so into having _real_ conversations now instead of just talking about sports and married life.

“I don’t have to do anything.”

“Kid,” Judd always called him kid when he was going into big brother mode, “They want to know you, and crews always work better when they trust one another.”

“I’ve given them no reason not to trust me. Just because I don’t share—”

“T.K., you’re not trusting them.”

“I trust them to do the job.”

“You won’t even tell them your favorite color. I’m not asking you to tell them every little detail about yourself, but if you want this to work, you have to give them something.”

“Judd, I have to go.”

Judd sighed. “Just don’t be a stranger. Dad misses you at family dinners.”

“I’m doing my best, Judd. You of all people know it’s a lot to deal with it all.”

“I know. I’m still strugglin’, trust me the nightmares keep on coming, but I’m taking little steps forward, and I’m learning not to let bad days get me down so much. Our new crew is a good bunch of people, so I don’t want your fears to get in the way of you adding some new people to your life.”

“I’m not afraid.”

Judd patted him on the shoulder, “Well, whatever you are ain’t making you happy,” and wasn’t that the truth.

When T.K. finally got home, the last thing he wanted to do was talk more, so he slid into his house and tried to restore his weary mind. He tried not to let thoughts about the dead little girl infiltrate his mind, but he was mostly left to his own thoughts when he was off, which left too much room for rumination. Carlos was gone at work for most of the day, so T.K. rested and let himself recover. It was complete silence between him and Carlos, but it was close. By the time dinner was on the table, Carlos seemed to have enough of it.

“You have to talk about it eventually.”

“There’s nothing to talk about.”

“Something’s bothering you.”

“I’m just tired.”

“Could you stop? I’ve had a long day.” He wanted to eat without the rattling in his brain. For a while, he wanted to ignore all that was wrong with his life.

“You were off today.” _And agonized by all my free time._

“The days blur together, I guess,” which was true. With odd shift schedules, T.K. sometimes lost track of what day it was or when the old day had turned over to a new one.

“You haven’t been talking to me since you got back to work.”

“I talk to you every day, Carlos.” T.K. wouldn’t be able to stop talking to Carlos, even if he tried. He’d lose his mind after the third day of silence. For as closed off as he was, T.K. couldn’t stand silence with anyone for long, and he’d lose his head when he thought people were giving him the silent treatment. If no one was talking, T.K. usually babbled just to fill the space. He didn’t have to do that as much with Carlos, though, or anyone he trusted. T.K. knew that Carlos would never use the silence as a weapon.

“Not about how you’re doing.”

“There’s nothing to talk about. I’m fine. I’m back at work and feeling better than ever.”

“You don’t just go from wanting to kill yourself to being fine.”

“I wasn’t trying to kill myself. It was just a normal ‘I’m a fuck up who accidentally overdosed on a shitton of oxy that didn’t even make me feel better.’”

Carlos didn’t look convinced. “It doesn’t really matter what exactly happened that night. Whatever happened, you weren’t okay, and all that matters now is that it happened, and you need to address it. I want to know that you’ve been dealing with whatever you’re feeling in the right ways because going backward isn’t a choice.”

“I’m dealing as well as I can be.” He wasn't telling the truth. He could be committing to his therapy. He could admit that he had wanted to die when he took those pills. He could tell Carlos that despite all his bravado that he wasn’t sure if he was ready to be back at work and that he wasn’t even sure that firefighting was what he wanted anymore. He could admit that more than just work was getting to him. But he wasn’t going to do any of that because it was easier for everyone if he dealt with his shit alone.

“Keeping to yourself isn’t dealing. It’s ignoring the problem.”

“Why does everyone want to talk? Why can’t any of you let things go back to normal.”

“Because the normal you want to go back to doesn’t exist, and the sooner you realize that the more stable your life will become.”

“I’m not going to do anything crazy.”

“Maybe not, but you’ve been more on edge lately, and I’m not sure if it’s because you’re back at work or because I told you that your dad was back.”

“I don’t care about my dad,” T.K. refuted too quickly.

“Fine, then this is about something else.”

Carlos wasn’t going to drop this, and T.K. couldn’t help the anxiety that blossoms in his chest or the rage that it turned into. “Why are you always such a busy body? You can’t leave me to have peace for five goddamn seconds?” He regretted yelling immediately, but with all the shame he felt for yelling, he became angrier, and he needed to be louder, or else he’ll be consumed by whatever happens next. He needed to keep fighting or he’d go down. “You’re supposed to support me, not try to leech information from me just to be entertained by the fucking drama in my life.” He sounded paranoid and insecure, but when he was in a mood, he always spoke to keep control of the situation and make sure his voice didn’t fade.

“I know what you’re doing.”

The anxiety was bubbling more, and he wasn’t sure what to do to stop it. He didn’t even know why it was there, but yelling temporarily dulled it. “I’m yelling at you like an asshole, that’s what I’m doing, but you can’t drop your sincere, loving husband act for two seconds.”

“You want me to lash out, but I’m not going to take the bait.”

“That’s not what I’m doing. I’m just a fucking asshole, Carlos. It’s not that deep. You’re so naïve that you think there’s something redeemable in every person. How crazy is that? Grow up and see that some people are just wasted. They’re going to break your heart, and they’re not going to care that they’re doing it.”

“You always do this when you’re upset.”

“I’m not doing anything. It’s not a master plan or a scheme. ! I’m just an asshole. That’s all. You should know by now that that’s all I am. You married me, and if you don’t know what I am by now, that’s pretty pathetic. You must’ve been pretty desperate to marry me. Aaron must have really broken you. He—”

T.K. could see the heat burning in Carlos’ eyes, and he got a guilty surge of satisfaction of finally getting a hint of the response he wanted. “Shut up, T.K, and don’t give me that crap. You know what you do? You try to control people’s reactions. You provoke them so they’ll get angry with you because you’ve learned that a predictable bad response is more secure than gambling on what you might get.”

T.K. rolled his eyes, “Keep your social worker talk out of this.” He wasn’t looking to be psychoanalyzed.

Carlos swallowed a lump in his throat. “No, you’re all about bringing up hard truths tonight, so I’m not holding back either. You’ve learned that being hit hurts a lot less when you’ve convinced yourself that you had it coming, so when you feel vulnerable, you try to make people mad so that they get angry when you see it coming.”

“Stop it,” T.K. warned.

Carlos didn’t stop, “If you make people angry, you don’t have to risk them feeling something you don’t know how to handle. You don’t have to worry that they’ll hurt you for no reason because when you get too close to someone, you always give them a reason to be angry.”

T.K. felt his eyes get glossy, but he’d learned long ago that crying made things worse, so he closed his eyes and willed the drops to retreat into his eyes. He felt Carlos’ weight settle beside him and felt a warm hand slip into his. “I’m not trying to make you feel bad, but you don’t get to dictate when I feel what. I want you to feel safe, but you’re never going to feel safe if you don’t learn to accept that you aren’t responsible for how other people feel, and you can’t control their emotions.”

“I can’t even control my own emotions. I feel like they’re always going crazy.” He couldn’t get a grip on what he was feeling. It had always been hard for him to process his emotions or even identify which one he was feeling at any given moment.

“That would be hard.”

“It was just an awful day.”

“I don’t know what happened, but you’re trying to punish yourself. There’s a part of you that thinks it’s what you deserve.” _Because punishment stops the spinning in my head._

“Yeah, well, I really fucked up, Carlos.” Maybe he did deserve bad things. _All of the bad things._

“What happened?” Carlos’ voice was gentle but prodding.

“There was a little girl who died in a fire we were called to. Her dad had beat her and her mom up, and then, the bastard set the whole house on fire.” It didn’t make sense to T.K. why he would do all that, and there was no amount of logic he could use to make sense of any of the senseless violence and destruction.

“Her death wasn’t your fault. I’m sure you did everything you could to save her. ”

“She was dead when we got there. I know that there was nothing I could have done. I didn’t even know what had happened at the time.”

“Then, what’s the matter?” Carlos’ brows were furrowed as he struggled to understand what was bothering T.K. so much.

T.K. swallowed a lump in his throat. “I had to leave her body there while I carried her abuser out.” Logically, T.K. knew that he was doing his job, and he wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he left a living person behind out of spite, but he hated how unfair it was when the scum of the Earth could continue living while people who did nothing wrong didn’t get that same chance. He hated that he had no control over it. He was powerless to the whims of the universe. He was powerless to his future. He was powerless to old scars that still sometimes ached as if they’d just happened. _I’ve always been so powerless._ “The thing I really hate,” he confessed, “is that I would save my dad too.”

“That shows that you’re the better man.”

T.K. wanted to sob, but he let out a choked, “I’m sorry, Carlos,” instead.

“It’s okay.” It wasn’t. T.K. had been an awful husband, and he couldn’t stand himself for it.

“It’s not. I’m an asshole.”

“No, _he’s_ the asshole. You’re hurting”

“It’s an inherited trait,” T.K. concluded, feeling like the worst person alive. _Carlos is too nice to see the truth. He doesn’t realize that he can do so much better._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading. Feel free to leave your thoughts!


	5. Shame

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> T.K. deals with memories of his dad and shame.

T.K.’s therapist was a nice woman; he thought that she was the type who went home and made cookies for her grandkids. She probably called her kids at least once a week just to make sure that they were okay. Evelyn Fields was the type of person who genuinely enjoyed being nice, but she also didn’t put up with T.K.’s bullshit. Probably because she knew that the only way he’d ever make progress is if she pushed him hard, sometimes to the point of anger. He would have sworn that he wasn’t an angry person— a little bitter maybe— but with the rage he felt after each session, he couldn’t help but wonder if he had anger issues. T.K. hated therapy, and as he sat on the chair that had a permanent divot from where all the butts had been, he wished that he was anywhere else. He would have rather been running into a burning building. At least he was trained for that.

Therapy was messy. It was a process, but it wasn’t an exact science, and while T.K. could predict where they’d take a session, he could never know for sure. Evelyn had a way of keeping him on his toes and making sure that he never got too comfortable. She was an expert at taking him down windy paths that only made sense when all the information was brought together in the end.

“Let’s talk about your dad,” Evelyn said, and the look in her eye told T.K. that she knew what the question would do to him. _He’s an asshole. There’s not much to say,_ T.K. told himself, but he knew where she was going with her line of questioning. She thought he was broken, and she thought that he had been broken long before the explosion. If T.K. was being honest with himself, the explosion wasn’t the thing that made him not okay. _But I don’t see the point in honesty._ It’s not like he stopped being able to function. He didn’t need therapy, he insisted. He needed to _get the hell out of my head and move on with my life._

“What’s he have to do with the explosion? He was gone long before that.” _And now he’s back_. I haven’t talked to him about it, and even if I died that day, I don’t think he would have cared.” _If he did care, he’d probably be relieved that I was finally gone._ T.K. hadn’t seen his father, but ever since Carlos told him that he’d returned to Austin, T.K. had looked over his shoulder.

“That comment and the other things you’ve said about him have led me to believe his role in your life is still prominent, even if he isn’t physically present.” T.K. thought about his dad sometimes, sure, but what kid didn’t think about their parents from time to time? Even kids who’d never met their parents wondered about them. It was normal. _Therapists always want to make me feel like a freak. I’m coping just fine. I have been for a long time. I wouldn’t have made it this far if I wasn’t coping._

“I’ve hardly talked about him.” T.K. couldn’t remember mentioning his dad in all the sessions he’d been to. “You don’t know anything about what he’s like. He’s not a problem.” _But maybe he was the first explosion._

“You’ve called him an asshole.” _And I was right to say it._

“I don’t see what that has to do with anything.” _If she could focus on why I’m here, that would be great. Let’s talk about the big boom, not the big fool._

“Lots of people are assholes. My dad is an asshole. My boss is an asshole. _I’m_ an asshole. People can be assholes without being traumatizing.” That was another thing T.K. hated about therapy. He said one thing, and she latched onto it as if it was somehow important.

“I never said that he was traumatizing,” Evelyn pointed out. T.K. swallowed, his throat feeling dry and his hands going clammy. _The rage is coming. I’m just like my asshole father._ “But I do think you not mentioning your father is significant.” _There’s a lot of value in what goes unsaid._

He fidgeted in his seat, but he couldn’t seem to get comfortable. “You didn’t have to say it. That’s what you’re always digging for. The big reason that I’m the way I am.” The room was getting hotter, and he wasn’t sure he’d be able to take much more of her questioning. “Let’s just talk about the explosion.”

“I can see that you’re upset, but why don’t we just tread cautiously on the path we’ve already started.” _No, this only ends in disaster. There’s a reason my dad is out of my life, and I want him to stay out. I need to stop this. I won’t be able to control myself if I keep thinking about this._

“I don’t know why you’re pushing it.” T.K. took a breath, trying to calm himself down. He wanted to yell at someone, but he wasn’t enough of an asshole to unleash on this poor, unsuspecting woman. He had to keep his cool, _and act like I’m not a monster. I have to be a normal guy, who has a great husband, wonderful friends, and a fantastic job. Barbie would be jealous of the utopian life I’ve created. It may be plastic, but at least it lets me pretend._

Evelyn tried to push on with the line of questioning. This was her job, and it usually made T.K. feel like shit, but in a way that forced him to take a tiny step forward. Her methods worked, but they also scared him. “What’s the first memory that comes to mind when you think about your dad?”

The first memory that popped into his head about his dad was just after his first little league game, but he wasn’t going to think about that. He certainly wasn’t going to talk about that to someone who would try to analyze that moment and make it mean something more than it actually meant. That moment was private, and T.K. didn’t allow himself to contemplate it in more than flashes _. Good job, buddy,_ his dad’s voice came in despite T.K.’s best efforts to keep it out. _You played well._ T.K. felt himself stiffen as the memory forced its way into his head. 

“There’s nothing to talk about it.” T.K.’s voice sounded weak, and his mind was going fuzzy. He couldn’t take this. He needed fresh air. Or a drink. _Or Oxy._ He needed to escape his head because remembering never led to anything good. The past wasn’t going to help him, so he saw no point in trying to manage it. It was a wild beast that didn’t give a damn about what he wanted or needed, and numbing himself was the only way to control it.

Evelyn got the memo that he wasn’t doing well. “Okay, T.K., I want you to ground yourself.” She handed him a small, squishy ball and had him hold it. “How does that feel in your hand?”

“Soft,” T.K. managed to get out.

“What else?” she prompted.

“It’s warm.”

“What color is it?” T.K. took some breaths, and he felt his body steady a little.

“Red.”

“Remember to be as specific as you can. Focus on the kind of red that it is.” When they did this exercise, she always wanted him to go deeper with his descriptions, hoping that it would help bring him back to the moment.

“It’s maroon.”

“What else in this room is room.” T.K. felt stupid, like a little kid playing eye spy, but he also felt like he was losing his mind, so he complied.

“Some of the books, your coffee mug,” he gave the room another once over. “There’s a woman out the window walking a dog. She’s wearing a maroon shirt. Maybe it’s burgundy.”

“Close enough,” she reassured him. “That’s good, T.K., but you’re missing a big one. Take a look at yourself.” T.K. looked down at his shirt. _Blue._ He looked at his pants. _Indigo jeans._ His shoes. _White sneakers with a black stripe._ Finally, he spotted it.

“My socks.” He took a breath, letting out a shaky laugh. He realized that he felt calmer, and his head wasn’t being dragged into the past. He still felt shaky, but the fear had subsided a little, and the anger had cooled. “That shit really works.”

“I’m glad to hear that, and I want you to use those techniques whenever your feelings start to overwhelm you. My goal isn’t to help you avoid the things that hurt you. I want to show you how to work through them.”

“Don’t you think some things are better left unmentioned?” If people didn’t know when to keep their mouths shut, they’d reveal all kinds of mortifying information. Sharing the wrong information could ruin everything, and it could turn a good moment and make it into a bad one. It was a skill to know when you needed to redirect a conversation to avoid landmines that would explode cordiality and goodwill.

“Do you?” she asked, flipping the question to him. Therapists also loved to turn questions right back around and make you explain yourself.

T.K.’s relationship with his dad was complicated, and that wasn’t something he could explain in one measly therapy session. “It’s not like my dad was a bad man. I mean— we had good times. He’s just a man. Not a superman, not a supervillain. He’s just a man who makes me feel a way I don’t like when I think about him. If I don’t think of him, I don’t have to feel that way.”

“Doesn’t it get hard to keep all those things secret?” T.K. didn’t love keeping so much of himself private, but it sure was a lot better than what would happen if he revealed the truth. People always thought they wanted the truth until the truth didn’t suit the perception they wanted to have of the world and the people in it.

“They’re not secret, though. I just choose not to tell them because they’re not important.” His dad was a closed chapter in his life, and T.K. didn’t see a reason to bring all that stuff up other than as a desperate plea for a little sympathy. _It wasn’t even that bad. He did the best he could with me. I just made everything harder than it needed to be. I can’t keep blaming the man for everything that goes wrong when I’ve always been a troublemaker who can do not right._

“For our next session, I want you to think on this. The things you choose not to mention are often the things that make you feel shame. Whenever you feel shame, you devalue your own worth. You take outward forces, and you characterize them as intrinsic flaws of yourself because it’s easier to understand something that’s happened to you when you can convince yourself that you are to blame. It’s often easier to rationalize ourselves in an active role in our pain than to face our passive, powerlessness. I want you to think about your shame. Are you keeping things that happened to your dad to yourself because they don’t matter to you, or are you keeping them to yourself because of shame? If it’s the latter, the longer you keep that information a secret, the more it will tear you apart. You don’t even have to tell me about it, or another person, but finding ways to express your shame is going to be one of our long-term goals.”

T.K. shook his head. “I don’t have shame.” _I’m out, proud, and taking on the world how I see fit. That’s not shame._

If she didn’t have such a neutral face, T.K. was sure that she would have looked at him like he was pathetic. “Just think about it, okay? I think you’ll find that shame can take hold in unexpected ways.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, I am finally updating. Just going to do short chapters for a while and see how that goes.


	6. Into the Dollhouse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> T.K. doesn't want to let the crew in, but they are hard to resist.

Grace had a dinner for the 126 the next Saturday that they all were off. It was just like her to go out of her way to make everyone feel welcome. She was well-versed in Texan hospitality. She lived up to her name, and for all her grace, Grace was of T.K.’s favorite people, but he still dreaded the occasion. He wasn’t going to have fun, and he wasn’t going to let Grace’s plotting change his mind about his new coworkers.

He didn’t want to get to know those people on a personal level, but considering how long he’d known Judd and Grace, he couldn’t say no. Judd was like T.K.’s big brother, and Grace had asked Carlos first, anyway, so between the three of them, no amount of excuses was going to get T.K. out of the awful gathering. He used to be great around people, but ever since the explosion, T.K. had struggled to interact in the ways that he once did. He felt like he never had the right thing to say, and it drove him crazy each time he tried to force strings of words together. He’d always been good at popping on a smile and convincing everyone that he was fine, but he can’t even do that anymore. The bubbly T.K. had retreated to a dark and foreign place. The explosion hadn’t killed him, but it had cracked him open, reminding him of all the things he’d tried so hard to forget. The explosion itself hadn’t left him traumatized, not in the ways it had Judd, but it had unlocked all the other junk in his brain that he had buried and not he was trying to swim in it, but it was heavy and muddy; he didn’t know if he was swimming into deeper water or towards the shore.

T.K. settled into a chair next to Carlos— he hung close to Carlos a lot lately— and he immediately crossed his arms over his chest. He didn’t want anyone to think that he was approachable because just the thought of having to talk to another human sent a wave of red hot rage through him for no other reason than he wanted to disappear. He didn’t want to be seen, and he certainly didn’t want to be known. _Because there’s so much inside of me not to like. So much that I’ve kept to myself for so long. If they knew who I really was, they wouldn’t like me. My past defines me, and it doesn’t define me in a way that makes me a better person._

With all his empathy and people-skills, Carlos hit it off with the crew right away. He quickly got into a conversation with Marjan about her latest viral video, and then he talked with Paul about a restaurant in Chicago that they both loved. (Who knew Carlos knew so much about Chicago restaurants… he’d only been there once.) Carlos could be quiet, sometimes, but he always knew how to bring the best parts out of people. _That’s why he’s perfect for a son of a bitch like me._ T.K. was proud to have Carlos by his side because _he’s the most redeemable part of me._

Marjan was talking about viral video number three, and T.K. felt himself listening more intently than he intended. These people had interesting histories, that was for sure. Mateo looked astounded, “So you just jumped into the water? Without even waiting for the okay?”

“I didn’t have time to wait. That’s what higher-ups don’t seem to understand. The woman needed me, and besides, I knew what I was doing.” Marjan’s smile was self-assured but not cocky, which let T.K. knew that she didn’t gamble with her life— she wasn’t his kind of reckless. She dove into action and didn’t let doubts trip her up. “It looks more badass than it was,” she said, the smile back on her face, “But it was still pretty badass.”

“You’ll find that Texas has a whole new set of challenges,” T.K. said because as much as he wasn’t there to make friends, he wanted his new crew to know that nothing could beat the outlandish circumstances they’d face in Texas. “We have lots of _creatures_ here in Travis County.” Texas required a special kind of badass.

Judd shook his head, “The snakes— I hate the snakes.”

“You grew up with snakes,” Paul pointed out. “Or is Cowboy Judd all just a lie?”

“Yeah, I grew up with ‘em. But that doesn’t mean I want any of them snakes inside. They’re meant to be _away_ from me.”

“He’s a baby about snakes,” T.K. told them. Judd would protect T.K. from most things, but he’d definitely push T.K. in front of a snake if it came down to it.

“And you’re a baby about _dolls_ ,” Judd countered, and T.K. felt himself smile. Maybe this dinner wasn’t so bad after all. “At least snakes can hurt people.”

“Now, that’s a story we have to hear,” Marjan said. They were all looking to T.K. Even Owen seemed interested, even though he didn’t say anything about it.

Paul raised a finger, “I second that.”

“It’s not that good of a story,” T.K. said, trying to play it off like he was embarrassed about and didn’t want it told. Carlos gave him a knowing look and would probably call him out for using reverse psychology to hype the story up later.

Carlos said, “Not good for your strong-man reputation.” T.K. really loved his husband. _Like, more than anything in the whole world._

“I think it shows how brave I am in the face of terror,” T.K. countered. The dolls had been very scary dolls, not just any dolls.

“Says the man who is afraid of dolls,” Judd teased.

“It wasn’t only me,” T.K. told the rest of the crew. “Judd was freaked out too. It’s awful when they’re all just staring at you. We were on this one call, and this woman, she was kind of lonely. She kept dolls to keep her company and she had about two thousand dolls in her house, and when we got there to check in on her, they were all staring evilly. These weren’t, like, the kinds of dolls that kids have either. They were like the ones that look into your soul and flip it inside out. They would make Annabelle look tame. So, there was with like two, no, three thousand dolls starting at me.”

“It was one hundred max,” Judd corrected. “You exaggerate everything.”

“I’ve noticed that about him,” Marjan said after a beat.

“Okay, but it was definitely at least a thousand. That doesn’t matter, though. The point is that they were _everywhere_ , and they had those creepy glass eyes. It’s worse than taxidermy. I thought they were going to come alive and eat me. Give me snakes any day as long as I never have to stare down another doll.”

Everyone had started laughing just at the sheer foolishness of T.K.’s storytelling, and T.K. laughed along. _Because why be grumpy all the time?_ He loved having good stories to tell. He’d take a little embarrassment or foolishness for the sake of a good story. For the first time in a while, T.K. feels included in a group. _Maybe they’re not so bad after all._ “That’s not even the scary part,” T.K’s add through chuckles. “The one doll started talking to me.”

“She was meant to talk, T.K.,” Carlos said. “It’s not like she was just talking on her own.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t even touch her. She just started talking non-stop like she was possessed. I still have nightmares about her somehow following me home with her hoards of doll cronies.”

“You can tell that he’s an only child with zero doll experience,” Carlos said. “My sisters’ dolls talked all the time without permission, and they weren’t possessed. I had action figures, too, that used to talk sometimes in the middle of the night.”

“Yeah, thankfully I never had _that_ traumatizing experience. My dad thought action figures were a covert attack of liberals trying to emasculate boys.” He said it without thinking in the lightheartedness of the moment. He was used to joking about his dad, despite their complicated history, and he wondered if that was a weird thing to say. He didn’t mind people knowing that his dad was fucked up, but he didn’t want them to start thinking the word _abuse._

“Sounds like an asshole,” Paul commented, and T.K. felt like he was being scrutinized. He forgot that Paul had that observation thing that he did.

“Yeah, he is,” T.K. said and then added, “But he loves me in his own way.” He wasn’t sure if he got across the idea that his dad was problematic but still a loving dad or if he came off overly defensive in a “For whatever reason, I feel the need to protect him after all these years even though he’s put me through so much trauma.” T.K. could feel Carlos reach over and squeeze his leg under the table, and _thank god for husbands._

T.K. noticed something, maybe interest or maybe sadness, in Captain Strand’s eyes, but Owen still didn’t say anything. The team didn’t know much about their captain other than he’d lost his whole crew on 9/11 back in New York. He’d been pretty quiet the whole evening, mostly just listening to what everyone else was saying. T.K. wasn’t sure the man had a personal life beyond the firehouse. He seemed to exist for the job and that was it. “How are you liking Austin, Captain Strand?” Carlos asked, diverting the attention from T.K.

Owen nodded, “It’s been good. I’m still getting used to it after spending most of my life in New York, but it’s a good change and a welcome change of pace.”

“It must’ve been hard coming here,” Michelle said to Owen. “It couldn’t be easy to leave your family and friends.”

Owen shrugged, “I didn’t have much left in New York. I needed a fresh start ages ago, but I stayed there on the off chance that things might change.” Owen seemed like the kind of guy who was open about how he felt, but it was in a way that T.K. didn’t trust to be more than a façade.

“You’re not married then?” Mateo asked, and Paul nudged him with his elbow, but it was too late, the question had already been asked. “What?” Mateo muttered when Marjan joined in giving him a look that said, “Not now, probie.”

“It’s fine, really,” Owen assured. “I’m divorced— twice. Both are old news.”

“It’s always a shame when things don’t work out,” Grace said. Trying to ease the awkwardness, she switched the conversation, “Do you have any kids?”

Owen’s face froze. “A son,” he eventually said. “I had a son.” The air became suffocating as they all took in the word _had._

“I’m sorry,” Grace replied genuinely. “I didn’t mean to pry.”

“It’s okay. It’s been a long time. Austin is the new start I needed.”

“Why now?” T.K. found himself asking, and he had no idea why he was doing it. It felt too personal, but he didn’t trust Owen, and he needed to get rid of some of the mystery that surrounded Owen. Maybe something in what Owen said resonated with him, or maybe he recognized the pain in Owen’s eyes.

“I realized that staying in New York wasn’t going to change anything.” _It wouldn’t bring what he lost back._ T.K.’s the opposite, he’s been trying to run away from his past rather than running towards the future. Owen forced a broad smile, taking a sip of his drink, “And I realized that Texans drink better.” T.K. recognized that smile anywhere. It was the classic, “I’m not okay but don’t ask me about it” smile. There was more to the story. Owen Strand was hiding something about his past, and T.K. wasn’t nosy enough to find out what that thing was, but he knew it existed, and he knew it was dark.

T.K. returned the smile, not because he felt sorry for Owen or because he actually wanted to show Owen any support, He held up his glass of mineral water, “I can’t speak on that, but we do dance better.” He let his grin grow a little more. He had an appearance to keep up too.

**Author's Note:**

> Starting another multi-chapter AU that I don't need to start (I have too many... and more to publish...yikes) C'est la vie! Anyways, I'll be hanging out at my tumblr lonestarbabe, so you can find me there. Thanks so much for reading.


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